Listen to the hedgehog, the magpie brought something on its tail. Hare's foot bedtime story

GOSSIP ABOUT BAKHRAM

Ha, just look how he stands - hands in his pockets, mouth to ears! He’s having fun, as if he’s been given a cockerel on a stick. Slacker! Instead of hanging out on the street like that, it would be better to look through the Primer or some other smart book.
Ooh, greedy! Recently I saw that he was going to school. In one hand there is a briefcase, in the other - pashmak-halva.
“Hey,” I shout to him, “Bahram!” Shouldn't you divide what you have in your hand into two?
Actually, the kids now have such a grip that oh-oh! And so does the appetite. Give any boy at least a hundred of this pashmak - he will swallow it in no time, and will not leave crumbs for anyone.
What, you ask, am I getting at? Moreover, Bakhram also became greedy and did not want to share. Well, I think, if that’s the case, hang in there, Bahramdzhan! R-time, and spread his secret throughout the area. Which one? Haven't you heard yet? Okay, so be it, I’ll say, after all, you are also one of our own.
You know: this year only those who turned seven years old before September thirtieth were accepted into first grade. Until the thirtieth! When was Bahram born? First of October! Someone knows for sure, but I know for sure. So, he sneaked into school, as they say, on the sly. He got through, you know, and took advantage of the fact that good people work at the school. They didn't even really look at the documents. They see that he seems to be tall, but what is in his head is the future, they say, will show him.
So, in a word, I whispered to one, to another about this secret-secret. There are many fair creatures in the world, like you and me, and more than one, I think, will bring to the director’s ears what kind of deceiver they have caressed. They will start checking documents. And there, you see, they will say:
“See you next school year!” In short, they will expel Bahramdzhan from school. We'll laugh at him!
Another time, Aunt Soroka will not spare a piece of pashmak halva. What are you saying? Are you a good student? Excellent student? Class pride? Please tell me what news!

GOSSIP ABOUT IKRAM

There was a time when I considered him a good boy. And then it turned out that he was not brought up well. Well-mannered guys at forty go to the museum specifically to look. Like a stuffed magpie, I mean. And he doesn’t need a stuffed animal. For him, his main joy is to offend a living magpie.
He galloped home yesterday, threw some corn to the chickens, and started knocking the apples off the tree with stones. I see there are few chickens, but a lot of corn. Do you think this is order? I quietly crept up and began to peck. Firstly, it was time for lunch, and secondly, I didn’t really have breakfast this morning, I just rummaged a little in the manure. So, you understand, I pecked that corn with gusto.
I peck, so I peck, and suddenly I see a lump of dry clay flying right in front of my beak. And quite a lot - from a good sparrow. The chickens, of course, scattered, and I flew up to the very top of the tall poplar tree. Get me, try me.
The more I think about it, the more offended I feel. Well, what did I do? All that was left was that the chickens pecked some grain. What does Ikram care about this? Envy gnaws at him, that's what. There is no one worse than envious people in the world. They don’t eat it themselves and don’t give it to others. - An incurable disease, I’m telling you that for sure.
And I’ll also tell you (I used to be silent, but I don’t want to anymore): his nickname is Red. Call him Red once and he will get angry. Next time he will start yelling. And by the third time, he’ll start crying at the top of his voice, downright sobbing. You try it once. So simple, out of interest.

GOSSIP ABOUT NADIRA

To look at her from the outside, she seems like such a quiet, simple-minded girl. But this is from the outside. But in fact, she is very much on her own mind.
Listen to what happened today. Well, listen.
I looked in the morning and Nadira somehow climbed over the threshold and waddled along the ivan. And in her hand she has a piece of samsa clutched - this is good from my tree, from a plum tree, that is, I saw it. And she doesn’t eat that samosa and doesn’t throw it away. This is strange to me, but I look and observe: what will happen next. And she suddenly tripped over a broom. And, of course, she stretched out on the floor and couldn’t hold the samsa in her hand; it flew off to the side. You should have heard how the girl roared! Well, right out of tears. It seemed strange to me. “Do I really think I hurt myself like that? Let me try it." I flew down and slowly began to approach the pie. So tell me, do you think about food when something hurts? No, really, right? And when Nadira saw me, the first thing she did was grab the samsa, and only then she stopped crying. She sits, pouted, and with her eyes she drills and drills into me.
Are you now convinced that the girl is on her mind? That's the same! So don’t even think about getting something tasty from her, it’s a futile idea!

GOSSIP ABOUT ZULHUMOR

She’s a big girl already, it’s time to grow wiser, but she’s not smart at all. Every time you look, he’s always sweeping the yard and waving a broom. Really, I think to myself, because of his years, he can’t find anything to do? Her peers are so dashingly playing with classes on the street.
The fact is that everything in the world is confused. The Zulhumor courtyard is kept so clean that it’s disgusting that you won’t find a crumb, a cucumber peel, or a scrap of paper. And her parents are happy about her - they couldn’t be happier. What is there to be happy about?
But her brother Ilkhambai is completely different. Such a nice little boy, always chewing bread. And at the same time he throws a good half around himself, and even at his feet. This is kindness! Therefore, he thinks not only about himself, but also about me. That means he’s eating, and I’m following on his heels, picking up the thrown pieces. And I came to this conclusion: if you treat each other with respect, one large flatbread, well, in extreme cases, two will be enough for both of us, maybe there will even be some left over. Although, of course, hardly.
Recently this story came out.
Ilkhambai went out into the yard with a hefty piece of freshly baked patyr, the mere sight of which made my mouth water, and he had just begun to drop the crumbs on the ground when, out of nowhere, this little cheat, Zulkhumor, jumped out: “How many times,” she squealed she, - you were told: eat the bread carefully, don’t crumble it, don’t throw it around! Here you go, here you go!” - and once, twice she slapped him on a soft spot. Believe me, I felt so sorry for the boy that, watching him cry, I almost burst into tears myself. However, I restrained myself, age, you know, and position... So, since then, Ilkhambai began to eat bread so that not only is there not a piece of crumb left on the ground, and no matter how much I follow him, I don’t get a single thing.
So that’s it... For the life of me, I don’t understand why my parents constantly praise this Zulhumor. And at least someone praised Ilhambay, “Well done, boy,” he said. So I say: everything in the world is so mixed up that even I can’t make it out.

GOSSIP ABOUT MUMINA

A boy lives in the Beshoghaini mahalla. His name is Mumin or Mumintai. Yes, I think you know him: steep forehead, button nose. Ugh, it’s sickening to even talk about him... So, we can’t live from him.
At their house - both in the yard and around - there is a continuous vineyard. And there are so many of these people out there - they’ll come up with something like this! - “sunny berries” that, I’m ready to bet anyone, the whole mahalla won’t be able to eat it. And it’s not surprising that some four magpies and sparrows will sometimes fly in to peck the grapes. Well, what's wrong with that, tell me?
But no, Mumintai is ready to drive us from early morning until late evening. He'll hide in the vineyard and throw stones or something else. Or, say, pull the string to which the rattles are tied. There is so much thunder from these cans, rattles, that it can fly wherever your eyes look.
I somehow waited for the right moment and carefully plucked one berry from a large brush of “lady fingers”. Ox, ox, oh! The taste is magical - sweeter than honey, more fragrant than roses. What honey is there! Eh, I think no one would interfere if I sat on the vine and calmly pecked three or four tassels. No matter how it is! Sit down and try it when everything is thundering there. And so, by the way, every day.
And who is to blame that Mumintai is growing so evil? I think it's all about education. If Mumin's father bought his son a bicycle, the boy would have no time to look after the vineyard: he would be busy all day - riding a bicycle.

GOSSIP ABOUT ALISHER

Children, as a well-known fact, are all fidgety and naughty. Well, Alisher, of course, is one of those. Five kopecks fall into his hands - he doesn’t feel the ground beneath him, he rushes to the store and buys a balloon. What's the use of it? No, to buy something useful, seeds, for example. And treat Aunt Soroka. He has five or six of the most simple pigeons. We are magpies, we don’t even consider them birds. Why do you ask? Yes, because a self-respecting bird would never live in a nest that someone built for it. Well, these live in some kind of cage and are happy. Outbred, in a word, like mongrel dogs. And you should see how Alisher fusses with them, how he pampers them. Disgusting!.. And how he plays with them! He'll launch it into the sky, and let's act out - clap your hands, whistle. And when the pigeons begin to somersault in the air, he just doesn’t feel like himself with joy. Okay, so be it. But don’t we also know how to somersault? And how. If we want, we can do even better. However, to do such things under someone's whistle - excuse me, authority does not allow us to engage in buffoonery.
In my opinion, rather than messing around with outbred pigeons, it would be better if he fed us enough, we are always nearby. And we are real birds, dignified, not like these small birds. Besides - they are unpretentious, whatever you give, we will eat everything for a sweet soul.
Eh, there are so many virtues in us magpies, but stupid boys don’t want to see it. They, you see, need somersaults in the sky. Well, never mind, someday we will be appreciated as we deserve.

GOSSIP ABOUT ATABEK

Sometimes it happens like this: a boy seems to be smart, but he’s still a fool. Atabek is just one of those. Instead of tying the cat’s tail in a knot, he, you see, strokes her fur. Would he have done this if he had the habit of thinking even the slightest about his actions?
What exactly is a cat?
The most harmful animal in the world. It's also cunning. You won't find other scoundrels like him. After all, it is necessary to accustom a person, the king of nature, to himself so that it is rare that a house can manage without a cat.
So that you don’t think that Aunt Soroka is just slandering and being malicious, I’ll give one example to prove it.
The strawberries that Atabek’s father planted in the yard have ripened. Cats, as you probably know, don’t eat strawberries; as they say, they don’t even need them. This same one, his damned favorite, revolves around the garden from dawn to dusk. If you want to try a berry or two, it’s right there, like it’s rushing madly. She, the cheat, has soft fur and sharp claws. If you fall into her clutches, say goodbye to life, you have a straight path to the next world. Do you think I’ve been sitting in a tree for so long in vain, I’m afraid to go down?
Here she is, the scoundrel, sitting next to Atabek on the bench, curled up. Don't think that because her eyes are closed, she doesn't see anything. No, she watches everything, she cares about everything. And to strawberries, which she doesn’t need for her spirit. Ooh, wretch!
Remember, I told you that Atabek is smart, smart, but still a fool! So here he is, the garden head, stroking the cat again. It would be better to give her a good kick in the side, so that she turns over ten times in the air. Eh, when will this boy learn to use his mind correctly?
What are you, little shooter, you’re passing by, can’t you turn your head? Or maybe your memory has gone wrong and you’ve stopped recognizing things? Come on, say hello to Auntie Soroka properly! Who besides me will tell you the truth? Do you want to show off: look, people, how excellent I am? Do you think Aunt Soroka doesn’t know anything, doesn’t know anything? You're wrong! I know for sure that in your diary, either in your native language, or in arithmetic, or in geography, there is a “two” and you don’t show it to your father, do you hide it?
I'm sorry, what? Did you tell me so that I would think what I was saying? Ah, wretch, am I, therefore, deceiving? I'm a liar, right? Swear: “May my inkwell break and ink splatter all over my face if there is a “two” in the diary.”
Are you silent, shooting with your eyes? That's the same, no one is foolish to believe your oaths.
Tell me, why is your pocket sticking out? Perhaps he stuffed it with nuts? Yes, a simple student's rubber band will make it swell. Instead of playing with nuts, you, rag head, would better correct the “deuce”. Aren't you ashamed? Other guys, your peers, by the way, show off on the “Board of Excellent Students.”
Come on, you better give me the nuts in a good way. Come on, I say! Do not want? Look, I’ll tell my father about the “deuce”!
Wait, wait, what is this? Rubber?!! Hmm, why are you fooling me for so long? I don’t have a single nut in my pocket, and I’m still getting ready for school. Come on, you bungler, get out of my sight.

GOSSIP ABOUT YOU

Anwar Abidjan spent his childhood and teenage years in the village of Palasan, Altyaryk district, Fergana region. He was born there in 1947, graduated from school there, and from there he was sent to serve in the ranks of the Soviet Army.
Then Anvar Abidjan worked as a timekeeper in a cotton-growing brigade, and as a literary employee for a regional newspaper. In 1974, his first poetry collection, “Mother Earth,” was published. Soon his new books came to the reader: “Stories of Bahram”, “Alavdzhan and his friends”, “The Bright World”.
The story “Alamazon and His Infantry” was published in Uzbek in 1983 and was warmly received by young readers.

One morning, Magpie brought a message for the Hare...
– Your friend Hedgehog dug up a huge carrot for you and is looking forward to visiting you!
The Bunny dropped everything and ran to the Hedgehog. Runs, licks his lips...
- I’m lucky, I haven’t had breakfast yet!
And jumping over the ravine he stepped on a sharp root. It's unfortunate that he turned his paw.
Bunny is upset, his paw hurts, to get to the Hedgehog there is still a clearing and a river to cross. What if the Hedgehog doesn’t wait, what if he eats a carrot?
Bunny sits crying, stroking his paw. A crow happened to fly here. She became curious why the hare was crying.
- Hey, oblique, are you sitting down and crying? - asked the crow.
“Yes, I was in a hurry to see the Hedgehog,” answers Bunny, “Yes, I twisted my paw, I can’t go,”
And tears flowed more than ever.
- Don't cry. - the crow grew kinder, - You do as I do. If I hurt my wing, I used to fly up into a tree, expose my wing to the wind and the sun, and everything goes away.
With that, she flew away, and Bunny looked at the trees - they were so huge, it was impossible to climb.
- No. - thought Bunny, “I’m not a squirrel, I’m not supposed to jump on branches!”

Bunny limped along the path, dropping tears on the ground. Then the green mound in front of him began to move, swelled up like a bubble, and burst. The mole crawled out and a tear fell on his nose.
- Who is here? – the Mole snorted.
- It’s me Uncle Mole, Hare. - Bunny sobbed.
- Why are you crying? - Mole was surprised. - Who offended?
- No. - Bunny answers, “I twisted my paw, it hurts, but I need to go to the Hedgehog.”
- Don't cry. - said the Mole. - Your wound is fixable. I was in a village where a smart dog lives, they say it heals animals!
The mole thought. - I just don’t remember which village. Just ask the Hedgehog, he knows.
Bunny Mole thanked him and hobbled on. Soon the river appeared, and then ford it, and there was Hedgehog’s house on a hill.

In the river, Beaver was completing the dam. He saw the Hare and screamed. - Hello friend! What's sad?
- Yes, I twisted my paw. - the Hare responded, and he himself was choking on his tears, his paw hurt, and he had no strength.
The beaver swam up, looked at the paw and said:
- Don’t worry, do as I do, stick your paw in the water - everything will go away, all my sores go away in the water.
“Thank you,” Bunny thanked, and he himself thought:
- Let me try, maybe it will help!
He put his paw in the water, sits and waits. After a while, it actually became easier, the pain subsided.
The sun is about to hide behind the trees, and there is still a meadow to go to the Hedgehog.
- We must hurry! - Bunny decided and went on.

The sun has set, the coolness has set in, and the Hedgehog is ready for dinner with a delicious mushroom, like a knock on the door.
- Who's there? - asked the Hedgehog.
- Me, Bunny!
The hedgehog took his friend into the house, poured him some tea, listened to the story and said:
- The mole said it right, we need to see a doctor. I’ve heard about the Dog, I know what village he lives in, it’s nearby. Just sit here, I'll bring the Dog!
The Hedgehog rolled into the village and brought the Doctor Dog. She looked at the paw and said:
- It's a sprain, don't cry. I see a scratch. Now.

She ran away somewhere into the bushes. A minute later she brought a piece of paper and explained;
- This is a plantain leaf, some kind of grass. Now I’ll pull my paw, it’ll hurt, but then it’ll all go away.
And he pulled unexpectedly. How the Hare squealed, his eyes sparkled! And it passed at once!
- Now attach the sheet. It will stop the bleeding, you will be as good as new.
- Well, thank you! - Bunny was happy. “I live in the forest and I don’t know that plantain is a medicinal herb.”

Already in the evening, in bed, wrapped in a blanket, Bunny asked the Hedgehog,
- Hedgehog and Hedgehog. How does the Dog know about forest herbs?
- They say she lived in the city, with a doctor, and learned there. - Hedgehog muttered, falling asleep.
But Bunny didn’t hear this - he fell asleep. He had all sorts of magical dreams, and you will have them too, baby.
GOOD NIGHT.

Author Shestakov Dmitry Petrovich

32. “You brought me pain and drama...”